Nerves of the Lips
by contemplating
Summary: In which Blaise is nervous, sticks are abused, and Hermione is confused. ..it's fanon!Blaise. I got attached to him.


**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling is the inventor; I am the fanfic writer.

**_Nerves of the Lips_**

Blaise lied opposite of Hermione on her bed, recalling their day's activities with rants and complaints about just the world around them, while releasing all their stress by giving each other foot rubs — their general tradition to end the day. They're just two people trying to deal with idiots of the world one step at a time.

"— oh, _honestly_! If Lavender pesters me about finding myself a man and getting rid of the stick in my arse one more time, I swear, I'd be happy to remove the stick from my own arse and shove it up her arse," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, and remember to put a Permanent-Sticking Charm on it, while you're at it," Blaise said nonchalantly. A little chuckle came from Hermione.

"I agree, and maybe permanently stick her two lips together?" she suggested happily.

Conversations between these two occur so naturally and easily, which makes it great since they share a flat together. Hermione was the same old hard-working girl, as Blaise, he changed after the fall of Voldemort. He realized that blood shouldn't come between wizards and witches of all kinds, since Muggle-borns can be equally powerful as any half-blood and pure-blood combined. He also wanted to prove himself worthy and fulfilling of life by making his own money instead of just depending on the riches his family can provide.

He went to Hermione because he saw her as his equal in academics and in life. He knew she could help him to be more independent. He had observed her before at school and saw how she handled the many courses at Hogwarts and two boys who needed her help at times. She was there for them, and she was there for Blaise.

Five months into living with Hermione, they could claim themselves as best friends, although Potter and Weasley were very hesitant of him, and took a while to accept him.

He looked down at her toes and found them strangely enough — _beautiful_, more than ever. He observed them while Hermione kept talking about the prompt she was about to present to the Minister. Her toes — they didn't have plastics like the women he dated.

A fiasco flashed in his mind from a date that failed... Well, more like a failed one-night stand. He remembered as the night went through with dinner and back at the woman's place. The woman was pretty, but she lacked content in her personality, perhaps, she lacked intelligence also (he couldn't remember the words exchanged during the evening much). The two were at foreplay, when he thought he would start with sucking her toes. At the start of it all, he didn't realize a plastic toe was loose, since he was no expert at these beauty things, he sucked on it, and the plastic lodged right into his throat.

The fiasco couldn't have gone better when he choked for good whole ten minutes, as the plastic poked and scraped the back of his throat, just irritating the entire situation further. He swore some of the bitter paint had chipped off and ran down his esophagus.

"Unpleasant" was the perfect word to describe the evening. "Scary foreplay" was also acceptable to describe the event. A fiasco like this made Blaise never want to go out with another superficial, materialistic woman ever, again.

Blaise glanced back at Hermione's foot and toes, and decided he had never seen such lovely foot in his life. He simply fell in love with her and her simple self. She didn't pretty herself up like the many women desperate for perfection. She had her own mind. He had never been so turned on by this factor — until now. He appreciated the simple beauty of Hermione Jane Granger for the first time.

"I love your foot, Hermione," he blurted out, suddenly. Well, those words got mixed up between the thoughts moving from his brain to his mouth. He paused, realizing the silliness of his words.

"What?" asked Hermione, confused by the sudden change of topics.

"Er — I mean — you have lovely feet," he said in a higher octave with clear meaning in his voice that he just got more nervous.

_"Smooth talking, Blaise,"_ said his mind.

"Erm..." said Hermione. What else was there to say? The compliment about her feet was just odd enough. She propped up on her elbows and looked at Blaise with confusion.

"Er — er — I meant that — I love you!" Blaise spat out. Recognizing what he just said, he released the foot he was rubbing, threw his arms over his head, and groaned. Hermione just stared at him with wide eyes and shocked look.

Deciding to ignore the sudden outburst from him, Hermione spoke up trying to ease the awkward tension between them. "It's getting late. I suppose you're very tired. Maybe you ought to go to bed and rest up — perhaps, clear your head ... for tomorrow." She gave him an awkward smile that was unseen.

He sat up quickly, and said, "Right, you're right. I should go ... and get some sleep." He quickly scrambled out of her bed and headed off towards his room as quickly as he could, but he did hit her door on the way out.

As morning came, Blaise noticed that Hermione left for work at the Ministry already, and most likely just trying to avoid him and any further awkwardness that can occur between them.

"Since when have I ever been nervous around a girl before?" he said aloud to himself.

_"Well, Mr. Suave-and-Smooth Talker ... this is the first time that you ever made your mind that you are in love with a girl,"_ his mind concluded for him.

He stood there, shocked, understanding that this is the first girl he had fallen in love with. The girls he had went out with before were just girls that he lusted after. There was no connection, no bond, no feeling of togetherness. He blinked and stared out the window; the bright sunshine bursting through the window pane — the glass that separates the human from nature.

As today was Blaise's off day from work, he'll just wait for Hermione to come home. He needed to explain his choice of words and his blubbering mouth.

The door creaked open, and Hermione stepped into the flat, carrying small grocery bags and a brown bag of Chinese food (in which that contains fried rice and sweet and sour chicken).

At the sound of the door closing, Blaise opened his door and saw Hermione standing starting her small journey to the kitchen. He immediately came to her aid with, "Here, let me help you with some of those bags," and outstretched his hands.

"No, don't worry. I've got them safe in my hands," she said as she pulled away from his reach.

"Hah, nice try." He made a grab for the grocery bags and swerved her towards the kitchens.

They finished putting away the groceries, and Blaise settled in his mind that now is a perfect time to explain what happened last night.

"Hermione, I need to talk to you — about last night," Blaise brought up, without nervous failure.

"Sure," she answered. She pursed her lips to prepare for the worst and focused her attention on him. The worst — she figured Blaise would never go for a girl like her. She expected someone as handsome with his dark, Italian skin, mussed hair, and dark violet eyes that just seemed to dance at times would prefer a girl with enriched beauty, the clothes that just brought out her curvaceous features, and can turn on any man with just a wink of the eye. She appreciated the friendship between them, and figured it's the closest she can be to him.

"When I said that your feet were lovely last night, I was really saying 'your feet were lovely.' They were very pretty," he said anxiously fast. "Your feet were lovely because, you know, they're not like most women, with all those plastic pieces pasted on their toes. They were normal. Your toes were normal. That's why I said they were lovely. And then — and then when I told you, 'I love you,' I really meant it also. I just didn't mean any awkward confusion," he started averting his eyes around the kitchen at this point, "I meant, I loved you, and um — I am still in love with you because you're just wonderfully simple and beautiful that way in my mind. I just — I just lost my words at one point, and I probably am doing it again right now." Once he stopped his rapid talking, he took in a huge breath, and buried his face into his hands.

_"There you go, jabbering away once more. Hermione must be petrified by now,"_ his mind assured him. At least, at the moment, he just wanted to bang his head against the counter or the wall.

Hermione stood there, absorbing all the information she had just received in two minutes. Hermione pried his hands away from his face, and admired his courage for his confession.

"I think you have lovely feet also, Blaise," Hermione said, grinning to her heart's content. He's so cute when he's nervous and babbles all over the place. She was relieved to know that he accepted her for who she is. "I love you, also."

She stepped closer to him and looked at him straight-on into his majestic eyes. At once, their lips met each other and smiled with giddiness. He held onto her by the waist, and sighed into her lips. Who knew two people can bond over the art of foot rubbing.


End file.
